Miraculous Reflekta Novels & Stories

Marsha tried to punch Mira's belly, but Mira swung her sword and cut Marsha's hand. Marsha screamed in pain. Alford turned to look at Marsha. He gritted his teeth and slapped Sierra. Sierra fell on the ground. Alford grabbed Sierra's katana and was about to stab Sierra in the chest. Mira made a power ball with a spell she had in her head. She blasted it on Alford. Alford went flying towards the other wall. He collided with the wall then fell on the ground with a loud thud.

One Kael turned his head, staring directly at them, then smiled, wrong, too wide, the glass rippled. “Kael,” Lira said. “It’s moving.” “I see it.” Before he could react, the reflection stepped out of the mirror, its form solidifying into flesh and bone. Its eyes were silver, glowing faintly. “I’m what’s left,” the reflection said, voice low and steady. “The part you buried when you ran from her death.” Kael drew his blade, pulse spiking. “You’re not real.” The reflection tilted its head. “Then why do you bleed when I do this?”

They moved deeper into the catacombs, and with every step, Seraphina felt more weightless—like her body was untethering from time. The passage opened into a dome-like chamber. At the center, a floating stone platform hovered above a pool of ink-like mist. On it sat a cracked mirror. The moment she saw it, Seraphina froze. “I’ve seen this before,” she said softly. “In a dream.” Lucan approached the edge. “That’s not a mirror,” he said grimly. “It’s the Source.” She blinked. “The Source of what?” “Of your curse. Of your power. Of everything.”

The shadows shied away, hissing like burning steam and then came the silence. Serena stood. Mirage shimmered in the centre of the stone circle. A mirror formed. But it didn’t show her. It depicted twelve wolves, standing high on a ridge of black rock, howling into the wind. One of them is standing in the middle — silver-eyed, fire beneath her pelt. Serakha. The mirror cracked. A line down the center. And up came Serena’s reflection. Changed. Eyes like moonlight and hair dusted with silver at the tips. The forest’s voice came back — low, ancient, gentle.

Rubby’s POV. I came back from the gym to meet my parents standing in front of the tv like they have seen a ghost. “Mom?” I walked closer and caught a glimpse of the screen. “Abj’s new CEO reveals her true identity. Mira Greg”. I cleaned my eyes to make sure I was seeing properly. Like a wind, it struck me. “I have waited for this,sister”. “What in Free city is this manipulation”. I yelled. “Mom, she is Mira”. I almost lost balance.

The white-hot energy crackling along the crystalline edges bled off a heat so intense it began to warp the frozen, sterile air of the sanctuary. "They are visually tracking our movements through the flawless reflections of the glass floors," Malakor hissed, his violet eyes locking onto the mirrored surface beneath his boots. Every shift of his weight was mirrored a thousand times in the polished white depths. "They do not look at us—they look at our reflections to predict where our blades will land. Let us take away their mirrors."

The Mirror of Desires was one of the most revealing rituals of the solstice. In the Hall of Reflections, tall enchanted mirrors lined the walls, showing not only one’s physical form but also flickering visions of deepest, hidden longings. Guests were encouraged to stand before them and confront what their hearts truly craved before the final nights.

Inside me there was a mixture of respect, excitement and fear for the immense god of the waters. When I came out of the sea, it felt like I had expelled an immense amount of water, stagnant and rotten, from inside my lungs. It was like breathing again. I grabbed my clothes and walked to the car. I went to my house, a refuge where I projected all my happiness. I took a shower and threw myself on the bed. I dreamed about Manuela. She entered the room and walked slowly to our bed. He climbed on top of me, sitting on my lap. I opened my eyes and saw her smiling. Multicolored butterflies swirled all over her body as sunlight flooded the room. A bright light spread through the room and she silentl

“Our magic, our thoughts—they’re no longer separate. We’re learning to live in one another’s reflections.” “Reflections can distort,” Mirra murmured. That simple statement struck Selene harder than she expected. The Fear of Becoming Later that night, when the others had gone, Selene stood alone by the window of her quarters. The moon hung high above the restored Veil, casting its fractured light through the glass. Her reflection stared back at her—a familiar face, yet not entirely her own. The silvery glow of her aura shimmered faintly green and blue around its edges, traces of earth and sea lingering in her light.

Zara stared at it, something primal in her blood waking. “This isn’t just a mirror,” she breathed. “No,” Maxim said. “It’s called the Umbraglass. One of the last magical relics from the Age of the Thirteen Clans. It shows truth… and threat.” As she watched, her reflection flickered. Not one Zara—but many. In one, she wore a crown of moonlight. In another, she bled from a wound she couldn't see. One version burned in violet fire. One stood alone.